You Can't Be Invisible To Me
by KittenOnTheKeys
Summary: Written from a challenge by Melantha. Rodney Skinner encounters someone who holds a strange attraction for him.
1. Chapter 1

"Such a strange stillness this is," Captain Nemo reflected aloud. He stood in the lounge of his magnificent ship, the _Nautilus_, in the company of three of his colleagues: Ms. Mina Harker, a widow chemist sometimes prone to vampiric behavior; Dr. Henry Jekyll, a reclusive medical doctor with a beastly alter-ego; and Thomas Sawyer, a young agent of the American Secret Service who was unusually handy with a rifle. Together with an absent fifth member, these unique individuals made up the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

The said fifth member was the Invisible Man, Rodney Skinner. No one was quite sure where he'd run off to, but neither did any of them mind not knowing, for they were in the habit of leaving him to his business.

Yes, even among such remarkable persons the role of the outcast had to be filled, and Mr. Skinner fit the bill quite well. Not to say that the others disliked or shunned him – indeed, he and Tom, being the two youngest of the League, had taken on the role of brothers with incredible ease. But the other members still found some of Skinner's qualities somewhat perplexing. He certainly lacked the reserve of the other four, though he never ceased to remain a gentleman. And, though none of the others would ever say so aloud in case Skinner should hear and take offense, they couldn't help thinking that as odd as they all were, their eccentricity was not immediately obvious. Here was where Skinner differed most. When his face could be seen at all, it was covered in stark white paint…hardly a formula for blending easily with regular society.

These were the general thoughts and feelings circulating about the room while, little did they know, their subject was embarking on the adventure of his lifetime.

* * *

Rodney Skinner sat in the darkened house of the Apollo Theater, waiting impatiently for the play to begin. _The sooner it begins, the sooner it's over_, he thought. He had never had any particular desire to see a play, but everyone back on the ship had been so incredibly dull that evening that he'd been compelled to seek entertainment elsewhere. He had bought a ticket to the performance on a sudden whim and was now beginning to regret his decision. Ah, well, perhaps it would turn out to be amusing yet. He was here, he might as well enjoy himself.

He flipped open his programme and tried to make it out as best he could in the dark. At last, the curtain went up. Since he thought he'd bought a ticket to a comedy, he was quite surprised to see the curtain open on a man performing a passionately angry monologue. Surprised, but not all together displeased. As much as he hated to admit it even to himself, Skinner found his interest being drawn in.

After the monologue, there came the doleful sound of a woman crying from somewhere in the wings, and then there appeared on the stage a young lady who caught Skinner's attention almost at once. He flipped through his programme again to find out her name.

_Emily Leigh, formerly of the _corps de ballet _of the Apollo Theater's Opera Company. She performs tonight in her first lead role._

Skinner looked back up at the stage, where Miss Leigh had begun to lament for someone or other. Skinner was unabashedly fascinated, both by the performance and the performer. He resolved to get a chance to speak to this Miss Emily Leigh directly after the performance.

* * *

"Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where Oi moight foind Miss Emily Leigh?" Skinner asked yet another stagehand, none of whom seemed to know just where the dressing rooms were located, judging from the confused answers he'd been getting.

"Yeh, sure," said the man. "You just go that way an' taike a left into the first hallway. Miss Leigh's room will be on the left."

Skinner thanked the man and walked away. His directions turned out to be correct, for he found himself at Miss Leigh's door in no time at all. Once there, he realized he probably ought to have brought a flower or something of the sort, but having nothing handy, he would have to do without. He knocked and waited for an answer. The door was opened by a young woman still in costume. She looked at him for a moment, startled by his strange appearance, and then called back into the room in French. A chorus of female voices answered, also in French. Skinner, who spoke little French, stood there feeling very awkward.

"For goodness sake, let's not torment him!" came a voice, finally speaking a language Skinner could understand. "Let him in, Chloe."

"_Comment bizarre_," the girl mumbled to herself, giggling as she moved aside.

"Uh…_merci_," said Skinner as he entered. The girl smiled and shut the door behind him.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said a voice as he entered. "We have always been taught to be wary of strangers."

Skinner looked around the room for the speaker and found himself lost in a multitude of actresses, all still in costume.

"Do Oi 'ave the roight room?" he asked uncertainly. "Oi'm lookin' for Miss Emily Leigh."

"Yes, sir, you have," said Miss Leigh, standing up so that he could see her. "I am Miss Emily Leigh."

She turned to the others and said a few words in French, which sent them all out the door, laughing merrily.

"I beg your pardon again," said Miss Leigh. "Some of them don't speak English very well, but all of us speak French, so we speak it amongst ourselves to make it easier for them."

"Quite all roight," said Skinner. "Oi apologoize for moy sudden appearance. Allow me to introduce moyself."

Miss Leigh waited expectantly, and Skinner realized that if he gave her his real name it could put them both in danger.

"Well?" said Miss Leigh, looking amused.

"John…Smith," said Skinner, bowing. "Oi'm John Smith."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Miss Leigh. "I'm Emily Leigh."

"Your performance wos wonderful," said Skinner. "Oi've neva been to a play before, an' Oi've certainly 'ad a good first impression."

"I'm flattered, Mr. Smith," said Miss Leigh, blushing. "It all happened so suddenly that I'm still a little dazed. I feel as though it couldn't really be happening to me."

She looked up at him with a smile, but something about her look seemed unusual. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"You probably read in the programme that I was formerly in the _corps de ballet_," said Miss Leigh.

"Er…yes," said Skinner, who was still pondering over the strange look. "Oi did read that."

"Have you ever seen ballet before?" asked Miss Leigh.

Suddenly, it hit him. The way she looked at him seemed strange because she didn't really look _at _him. Was she simply too timid to look him in the eye? Was it meant as a gesture of respect?

"No, Oi 'aven't," he said, trying to make his tone more gentle so that she wouldn't feel intimidated by him. "Do you still dance?"

"Only on my own," said Miss Leigh. "I've not been able to dance with the _corps_ since my accident."

"Accident?" Skinner asked. Then he came to a full realization of the reason why she wouldn't look at him.

She was blind.

"Oi'm…Oi'm dreadfully sorry," he stammered.

She was _blind_. That meant that she couldn't see him. She didn't know how strange he looked. For all she knew, he was a regular man. To be seen as a normal human being after so many years as The Invisible Man was quite staggering for Skinner.

"It isn't your fault." Miss Leigh laughed. "It happened some time ago and I've become used to it. Won't you take a seat?"

"Oi don't intend to stay long," said Skinner politely. "Oi've got some friends waitin' on me. But may Oi have your permission to bring them to your performance tomorrow an' introduce them to you?"

"Certainly," said Miss Leigh. "I'll look forward to meeting you again, Mr. Smith."

* * *

Skinner thought to himself as he walked back to the dock. He found that everything looked a bit different since his entering the theater and he began to wonder why. Was it because the light of the evening sun was casting a strange glow over everything? Maybe. Whatever it was, Skinner decided that he enjoyed it.

"Can I take your hat, sir?" asked one of the crewmembers as Skinner boarded the _Nautilus_. All of the crew aboard the ship had learned not to ask Skinner for his coat.

"Thanks, but Oi think Oi'll keep it tonoight, Sanjeev," said Skinner, who knew most of the crewmembers by name. He was well liked and considered a friend among them.

"As you like, sir," said Sanjeev. "May I ask where you've been? The others have been wondering."

"Oi've been to heaven an' back, Sanjeev," said Skinner with a laugh.

"That's quite a long way, sir," said Sanjeev, going along with Skinner's jest.

"You'd betta believe it," said Skinner. "But it's such an enjoyable trip."

Sanjeev laughed as he walked away down the hall. Skinner headed for the lounge to see if the others were there. They were, but he decided to have a little fun and not say anything just yet. He strode in the door, greeted them, and picked up a book without another word.

Tom watched Skinner out of the corner of his eye for a while, uncertain of whether or not to ask where he'd been. He didn't want to seem invasive. But then again, it was an innocent enough question. What could be the harm in it?

"Well," he said at long last. "Where were you?"

Skinner looked up at him and smiled. "Out," he said in simply.

"I think I knew _that_," said Tom.

"Woy'd you ask, then?" said Skinner.

"Skinner!" Mina exclaimed.

"Wot?" said Skinner innocently.

"Answer the question and give us some peace!" said Mina irately.

"Oi thought Oi already did," said Skinner. Mina glared at him.

"Okay, if that's how you're gonna be," said Tom smugly. "What were you _doing _while you were out?"

Skinner grinned. "Oi wos walkin'."

"Where'd you walk to?"

"A buildin'."

"What was inside?"

"People."

"What were the people doing?"

"Sittin'."

"Rodney Skinner!" Mina exclaimed. "If you do not stop that this _instant_ you'll be my next laboratory experiment!"

"Yes _ma'am_," said Skinner.

There were a few moments of silence.

"So…where were you?" Tom asked again. Skinner laughed as Mina gave Tom an incredulous look.

"If you _must_ know, Oi wos at the Apollo Theatre," Skinner finally confessed.

"The theatre?" asked Jekyll, speaking for the first time that evening. "Come, do be serious."

"Oi'm completely serious," said Skinner. "An' you'll neva guess wot Oi saw there."

"Actors?" said Tom. Mina gave him a _look_.

"Well…yes," said Skinner. "But mostly Oi saw Emily."

"Emily?" Tom asked. "Who's Emily?"

"She's the loveliest actress this soide o' the Pacific," said Skinner. The other League members looked at each other. What had gotten into him?

"Have you been drinking, Mr. Skinner?" Mina asked.

"Oi most certainly 'ave _not_," said Skinner.

"Perhaps he's raving," Jekyll suggested.

"Look 'ere!" Skinner exclaimed, looking offended. "Oi'm not drunk an' Oi'm not sick! Oi'm jus' foine. If any o' you 'ad been through wot Oi 'ave tonoight, you'd be excoited, too."

Suddenly, Tom began to laugh.

"Wot's so funny?" Skinner asked, irritated.

"_I_ know what's wrong with him!" Tom declared.

"Well, do tell us before he drives us all mad with his raving," said Mina.

"Oi'm _not_ sick!" Skinner insisted.

"Oh, yes you are!" said Tom. "_Love_sick!"

Now, it must be said that if Skinner and Tom acted like brothers, that included the occasional brotherly quarrels. The conversation seemed to be taking a turn toward one of them as Skinner crossed his arms and looked at Tom darkly.

"And that, my friend, is the best thing you could've done to make me absolutely certain of it," said Tom. Skinner gave him an even darker look.

"Be quiet, you!" he growled.

"Aw, come on, Skinner," said Tom good-naturedly. "Being smitten's nothing to get embarrassed about."

"Oi am _not _embarrassed," said Skinner, calming down all at once. "Oi jus' prefer not ta 'ave moy personal business blasted all ova creation."

For the first time that evening, Mina looked amused.

"I suppose you'll be a regular at the theatre, then?" Jekyll inquired.

"Oi couldn't say," said Skinner. "But Oi _will _be there tamorrow evenin', if anyone cares ta join me."

* * *

As Emily Leigh got herself ready for bed that night, she found her thoughts wandering back to the strange gentleman who had visited her. She didn't know why she thought of him as strange after just one meeting, but somehow it seemed to fit. However, even though he might be strange, it didn't follow that he was necessarily unpleasant.

Emily smiled to herself as she brushed her long hair. No, there was nothing unpleasant about the gentleman. Everything about him was engaging, from his agreeable conversation to his lively accent. How she wished she could have known what he looked like! Perhaps she would get one of the other actresses to tell her in the morning. For now, she would have to be content with imagining him for herself. She thought him to be of average height and slender build, with brown hair and green eyes, as bright and cheerful as his Cockney brogue. An all-together pleasant image, she reflected.

She slipped her nightgown over her head as she tried to think of his name. He had told her…Smith, was it? Yes, John Smith. It seemed quite an ordinary name for such an interesting man. She blew out her candle and got into bed, and as she closed her eyes she had the sound of Mr. Smith's lilt lulling her to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

All of the League members were intrigued by Mr. Skinner's sudden infatuation, and so the next evening found everyone getting ready for a theatrical performance. Mina was the last to join the company at the door, and the men were a bit surprised to find that she looked absolutely stunning. They couldn't recall ever having seen Mina dressed for a formal occasion such as this. The doctor immediately stepped forward and somewhat timorously offered his arm. Mina took it with a gracious smile.

"Now, there's one thing Oi failed to mention last noight," Skinner told them as he led the party out the door. "She doesn't know Oi'm invisible, so Oi should appreciate it if you didn't comment on it."

"How…how exactly is that possible?" Tom asked.

"You'll foind out," said Skinner.

The performance turned out to be even better than the night before. After the play was over, Skinner led the way to the backstage dressing rooms. The others noticed that he was holding a single white rose in his hand.

He knocked on Miss Leigh's door and she called to them to please come in. As they entered, everyone watched Skinner closely. Much to their surprise, he went over to where Miss Leigh sat at her dressing table, took her hand, and kissed it with an air of true gallantry that no one had ever before observed in him.

"Miss Leigh," he said, handing her the rose. "Your performance wos lovely."

"Thank you, Mr. Smith," she said, blushing timidly and toying with the rose. It was clear that the two were already quite fond of each other's company.

"Allow me ta introduce moy friends," said Skinner, but he did not go on to introduce them by name. The others guessed that this was to keep her from knowing who they were. They had guessed that this was also the reason she had addressed him as Mr. Smith. But why hadn't she been at all alarmed by his singular appearance?

"Pleased to meet you all," said Miss Leigh. "I hope you enjoyed the performance as well."

She looked up at them with a cheerful expression…only she didn't quite look _at_ them; rather, she looked in their general direction. Suddenly, it was awkwardly obvious why she wasn't put off by Skinner's appearance.

She was blind.

Jekyll broke the uneasy silence by saying, "The performance was quite pleasant, thank you. You are a great talent, Miss Leigh."

"Thank you…" said Miss Leigh, uncertain as to who was addressing her.

"Doctor…Edward…Hyde, at your service, miss," said Jekyll slowly, hoping that she wasn't familiar with the name of his alter ego.

"A pleasure, doctor," said Miss Leigh.

"Were you always blind, Miss Leigh?" Jekyll inquired. "Forgive me if the question offends, but as a medical doctor I find your condition intriguing."

"Oh no, I wasn't always blind," said Miss Leigh. "It happened only about three years ago."

"May I be so bold as to ask how it happened?" said Jekyll.

"An accident onstage," said Miss Leigh. "I was still in the _corps de ballet_. A backdrop fell from the fly space during a rehearsal and hit me in the head. I was lucky to be blinded and not killed."

Jekyll noticed that Skinner seemed to start upon hearing that, but it was so brief that Jekyll thought he must've imagined it.

He hadn't.

Miss Leigh's story was eerily similar to an unfortunate accident Skinner had been involved in about three years back. He had once been a fly man at the Apollo Theater. It was an ideal job for a man in his unusual situation. The theatre owners, being in the theatre business, had seen stranger things than a man who painted his exposed skin white, and in the darkness backstage no one would think twice about not being able to see him. However, his employment at the theatre hadn't lasted long. One day, a rope holding up a backdrop had snapped in the middle of a ballet rehearsal, potentially resulting in severe – perhaps fatal – injuries. Skinner had fled the scene immediately, for fear he would be blamed and have charges pressed against him. He had never returned to the theatre again…until now. Hearing Miss Leigh's story had surprised him. Was it possible he was responsible for her blindness? Or was the similarity of the accidents a mere coincidence? It couldn't possibly be chance, he thought. There couldn't have been two accidents so similar in every detail that occurred at approximately the same time.

He was responsible. It was an intimidating thought.

* * *

Emily invited them all to dine with her, an invitation that they were pleased to accept. Afterward, they walked Emily back to the theater, where she lived in a dorm, and then returned to the _Nautilus_. No on spoke as they hung up their coats – all but Skinner, of course – until Dr. Jekyll broke the silence by saying, "I believe I could help her."

"What do you mean?" Mina asked.

"She mentioned that her condition was caused by a blow to the head," Dr. Jekyll explained. "If that's the case, an operation could restore her sight."

"It could be dangerous, though," Tom pointed out. "That's a pretty big decision."

"Well, the decision would be up to Miss Leigh herself," said Mina.

"Most certainly," said the doctor. "But I feel that it's my duty as a physician to make all available options known to her."

"It's a bad idea," said Skinner suddenly. The others looked at him.

"Is it?" Mina asked.

"The death rate from operations is awfully high, isn't it?" Skinner asked.

"No higher than what is normal for such a procedure," said Jekyll. "The benefits could outweigh the risks. It depends on how Miss Leigh feels about the matter."

"Oi still say it's a bad idea," said Skinner. Then he bid everyone goodnight and went to his room.

"What's gotten into him?" Tom wondered aloud.

"Heaven knows," said Mina, looking exasperated. "If you ask me, the man is one card short of a full deck."

* * *

The next morning, Skinner was surprised to find himself with a sudden inclination to wear clothing. What he put on was nothing extraordinary, just a simple outfit of a plain black shirt and black trousers along with the rest of his usual attire. But the point was that he _did _put it on. He hadn't had any particular desire to wear real clothes since he'd become invisible, but for some reason the idea of calling on Emily in only a hat, coat, and some paint was disturbing to him. It was unusual, though he knew well by now that going about with nothing on wasn't all that it was made out to be. He'd fallen ill countless times on account of it, and he had stared death in the face more often than he cared to think about. But the worst part of it all was the loneliness. He hadn't counted on that. It was a sharp pain, thinking of all the friends he'd once had, friends that had since forgotten he even existed. When he'd first become invisible, he'd been able to start off a conversation with his friends easily enough, but after awhile they would begin to talk as though he weren't even in the room. He'd eventually devised that hat, coat, and paint to remind them of his presence. It had helped a little, but not enough. Now they remembered that he was there, but they regarded him as some kind of supernatural being. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make them understand that he was still the same living, breathing, feeling Rodney Skinner he'd always been. He felt like a shadow, a ghost with no place among the living, so he'd gone off to continue his work on his own.

As it turned out, invisibility had never helped him in his profession. The only effect it'd had was to make people think that whatever it was he was trying to steal was either levitating or possessed by some evil spirit, or both! He'd had so many prayers said over him that he was certain he was the holiest thief in all England. The one real reason he'd turned himself invisible…and it had all come to naught. All he was left with was a huge mistake that had destroyed his life as he knew it. He'd been forced into a new life, a life worse than that of the poorest beggar, but with one crucial difference. At least people were aware of the beggar's need. Skinner had only his own intelligence to rely on.

These days, the League had come into the picture and his life had changed again, this time for the better. They had made something of a hero out of him. An unorthodox hero, to be sure, but a hero nonetheless. He was much happier now than he'd ever been as a thief, but of course he wouldn't reveal that to the others. He had too much fun observing them as they attempted to divine his true character. Besides, how could they divine his character if he hadn't yet divined it himself? Truth be told, he wasn't altogether sure he _wanted_ to give up his thief's life. It was the only life he'd ever known.

"Why, Mr. Skinner!" Mina exclaimed when he entered the dining room for breakfast. "You're…dressed."

"As you see," said Skinner rather flatly, being at the moment immersed in his own thoughts.

"May I inquire as to what effected this change?" Mina asked.

"Oi woke up in a strange mood this mornin'," said Skinner. He ate very little and then immediately set off to call upon Miss Leigh.

She greeted him warmly and introduced him to the ballerina who shared her dorm, a young lady of French origin by the name of Marie St. Aubin. They had become friends while they performed together in the _corps de ballet_ and had remained close friends ever since.Marie seemed a bit taken aback by Skinner's strange appearance but made no comment. She merely greeted him politely, and the three of them proceeded to converse pleasantly for about fifteen minutes. Then Skinner invited Miss Leigh to take a walk with him, and she readily obliged. He offered his arm as they set off, and she took it with a smile.

"There's…something strange about you," she remarked after some time.

"Oh?" Skinner asked.

"You seem to feel somehow…out of place," said Miss Leigh. Skinner laughed bitterly.

"Believe me, you 'ave no idea," he told her.

"What do you mean?" Miss Leigh asked.

"Oi feel out of place simply because Oi _'ave _no place," Skinner explained. "There's no room in society for a man loike me."

"Everyone has a place," said Miss Leigh.

"Oi used to think that," said Skinner. "Nowadays Oi think differently."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Miss Leigh. "There's a place for you somewhere, Mr. Smith. You only have to find it."

"Oi gave up lookin' a long toime ago," Skinner said quietly.

"I can't imagine what can have happened that killed your hope so," said Miss Leigh. "It must have been something dreadful."

"Well…wot about you?" Skinner asked, changing the subject before he let something slip. "You told us about your accident. That must've been dreadful as well."

"I'll never dance again," said Miss Leigh with a small sigh. "I found such joy in dancing, but now I must find it in acting."

"Doesn' sound too enjoyable," said Skinner.

"I gather you've never experienced losing your sight," said Miss Leigh.

"Not quite," said Skinner, thinking of what he saw in the mirror every morning.

Nothing.

He paused to pick a wildflower and put it in Miss Leigh's hand. Miss Leigh gently fingered the petals for a moment, smiling.

"What color?" she asked.

"White," said Skinner. "A Morning Glory."

"Lovely," said Miss Leigh. She looked up at him, and it somehow seemed to Skinner that she was looking him straight in the eye.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few months, Skinner began to carry on what the rest of the League considered a full-blown romance with Emily Leigh. They called each other by their first names and were in each other's company as frequently as possible. Skinner made up excuses when he was wanted on missions with the League, telling her that he was away on business. Emily invited him to gatherings whenever there happened to be one at the theater or after a performance, so that the rest of the performers became quite used to seeing him there. The other League members found this romance bewildering at first. Skinner seemed serious about it, but he had never given the impression that he was the type to settle down. Not to mention that he, with all his irritating impudence, hardly seemed to be a good match for the timid Emily. There was also the added strangeness of their unique situations – he an invisible man, whom the world couldn't see, and she a blind girl, who couldn't see the world. They were quite the odd couple.

As for Skinner himself, he felt a strange sensation whenever he was with Emily, as though she were helping him to regain the innocence he'd never had. He'd been forced to skip the simple joys of childhood by his situation as an orphan. He'd learned stealth stealing what he'd needed to survive, until it had become second nature. He'd had a lover or two in the past, before he'd turned himself invisible. Of course, they'd all deserted him after that. But Emily was different. He loved her, _truly _loved her, and his invisibility didn't matter. He was as visible and real as anyone else she knew. As far as she was concerned, he was more than just a disembodied voice or a black coat and face paint. He was a man, just a man, without the 'invisible' tacked onto the beginning. What was more, he was a man she could love, _did _love, if he wasn't mistaken. In some strange way, Emily's disability was giving Mr. Skinner a whole new outlook on life. Around her, he felt so happy, so refreshingly normal, and he knew he didn't ever want to let her go.

However, there was one thing about the relationship that truly bothered the other League members. Since Skinner obviously never brought Emily aboard the _Nautilus_, and since Skinner also saw Emily quite frequently, Dr. Jekyll had repeatedly asked him to mention to Emily his theory that an operation could restore her sight. Though Skinner always promised to bring it up, it was apparent that, for whatever reason, it never quite got done. Finally, the doctor paid Emily a visit and posed his suggestion himself. Emily was naturally quite enthusiastic about the idea.

Upon Dr. Jekyll's return to the _Nautilus_, he joined the others for lunch.

"What took you off this morning, doctor?" Mina asked.

"I made a call," Jekyll told her matter-of-factly. Mina was surprised to hear this from the timid and reclusive Jekyll.

"To whom, may I ask?" she inquired.

"Miss Emily Leigh," said Jekyll. "I offered her my help, if she should desire it."

"You didn't!" Skinned shouted, jumping up from his place at the table.

"I know you don't approve, Mr. Skinner, but I felt it my duty as a physician," said Jekyll.

Despite his face consisting of only white paint, it was evident that Skinner was furious. He stalked to his stateroom and slammed the door so loudly that everyone in the dining room could hear it. After locking the door, he proceeded to wash the paint off his face. As he did that, he chanced to catch sight of himself in the mirror, or what there was of him. He tried to remember what he looked like.

He found it quite difficult.

_Come on, Rodney_, he thought. _You remember._

He leaned against the wall with his hands on either side of the mirror, staring intensely. There was nothing. He could see the room behind him, but of his face he saw nothing.

_You 'ad red hair, an'…wot color eyes? _

He tried to focus on where his eyes would be.

_Were they green? Or wos it gray? Blast it, wot color were they!_

These thoughts sent him into a state of near panic. How could he forget what he looked like? It was basic. You knew it from the time you were old enough to know anything. If someone asked you what color your eyes were, you knew.

Yet here he was, a grown man, and he didn't know. He had no way of knowing.

How could anyone want to know a man who didn't know himself, not even the color of his own eyes? Was this what people meant when they spoke of identity crises? He doubted it. There weren't many people who would forget what they looked like.

Then he thought of Emily. If she allowed Jekyll to perform the surgery, things would be over between them. They would have to be over. After all, how could Emily be expected to carry on a relationship with a man she couldn't see? The moment she saw him, she wouldn't see _him_, as she did now. She would see the Invisible Man, as everyone else did. She would see him for the freak that he was. If she ceased to see him, who else would be able to? If he were to continue courting her, he would have to prevent the operation from taking place. He set off at once to see her.

* * *

"John!" she exclaimed when she answered his knock. "I'm so glad you're here! I have much to tell you."

Skinner kissed her hand, as was his customary greeting for her, and she led him into the room.

"Your friend, Dr. Hyde, was here this morning," she told him as she searched for the teapot in the special way she had. Skinner watched her and realized that he'd never noticed how graceful her way of searching was, not awkward in the slightest. She was obviously used to doing it. Her hand found the teapot, and she proceeded to search for two cups. She brought everything over on a tray.

"The doctor told me something so wonderful…so completely wonderful, John," she said as she took a seat opposite him. "You'll never believe it. He told me that I might see again!"

Skinner hesitated before answering. There was such joy on her face, written on her every feature. The one thing in the world she wanted, something she thought she could never have, was before her. Who was he to take it away, even for the sake of wanting her love? But could he face the consequences? Could he sacrifice the freedom and the newfound identity that her blindness gave him? Could he sacrifice Emily herself? Was he strong enough to let her go?

Not by a long shot.

"Emily," he said softly. Emily looked surprised by his tone.

"What is it?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Actually, yes," said Skinner. "The procedure…Oi…Oi cannot recommend it. Not even for the sake of moy friend."

"Can't recommend it?" Emily asked in a state of apparent shock. "But…why?"

"It just isn't safe," said Skinner. Tears sprang into Emily's eyes, and Skinner felt a pang of guilt for the first time in years as she tried to conceal them. That was the thing about Emily. She brought out emotions in him he didn't even know he had.

"Perhaps…perhaps I should reconsider," Emily faltered. Skinner almost felt like crying himself. He wanted to shout the truth out so loudly that the whole world would hear it. But what was done was done. He couldn't take it back now. She would surely despise him if she ever found out what he'd just done.

"Oi don't mean to hurt you," he told her. The mockery of his every word was like a slap to the face. Didn't mean to hurt her? What else could he possibly be doing if not hurting her?

"I know you don't," said Emily.

"Oi only did it because Oi love you," said Skinner. So now he was hurting her out of love? Great one, Skinner.

"There is hardly anyone in the world I would trust as much as you, John," said Emily. Skinner couldn't take much more.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Oi'm sorry."

He took his leave by giving her a kiss on the cheek and headed back to the _Nautilus_, in no particular hurry to arrive at his destination. When he did finally arrive, he spoke to no one and locked himself in his room. It was his way of escaping the world. At least when he was alone in his room he didn't have to feel like such an outcast. There were times he felt that he spent more time in his room than out of it.

Locking the door behind him, he turned and looked around. His eyes fell on the mirror, the hateful object that had started all of this. Overcome by anger and guilt, he rushed over and smashed it with his bare fist. Visible blood ran from invisible cuts down his invisible arm. He didn't care. He hopedhe bled to death. It was what he deserved. Allan Quatermain had been right about him all along. He was a barefaced liar.

Skinner sighed as he sat on his bed and started at the blood that ran down his arm. He felt as though he'd go mad if he had to stay like this another second. He had ruined his own life by his own selfishness, and that same selfishness had now compelled him to lie to Emily and to ruin _her _life. She had done nothing to deserve it. He felt so trapped by this complex web of lies he'd woven, some intentional, some not. If only he could start over. But he had made his decisions, no matter how conscious he'd been of doing so, and the consequences were his to live with.

Skinner had been born a fighter, never the sort to resign himself. But when would he learn to stop making decisions he had to fight against?

A knock on the door drew him out of his thoughts.

"May I come in?" Mina asked from the other side of the door.

"No, you may not," said Skinner crossly. "You know quite well that no one is allowed in moy room."

"What happened?" Mina pressed.

"Nothin' that concerns you," Skinner replied.

"Did you quarrel?" Mina asked. Skinner opened the door but didn't allow her to enter. Mina looked at his bleeding arm with surprise.

"We _did not_ quarrel," said Skinner angrily. "Now will you koindly leave me to moy business before you droive me mad!"

So saying, he slammed the door. Mina stood there for a moment, trying not to show that she had been taken by surprise. Skinner was usually such a gentleman, however irritating some of his mannerisms might be.

_He may deny it, but this is a quarrel and nothing else_, she thought. Satisfied with this explanation, she continued on down the hallway.


	4. Chapter 4

The next week, Dr. Jekyll received a letter from Miss Leigh politely refusing his kind offer. Jekyll was more than a little surprised. He read the letter twice through and then showed it to Mina. Mina seemed to be equally puzzled and showed it to Tom, who had no help to offer and showed it to Skinner. Skinner seemed to have no reaction whatsoever. He didn't seem surprised, but neither did he seem to have expected it. His face wasn't visible – he had been painting his face less often as of late – so it was impossible to tell by his expression what he was thinking. He read the letter, handed it back to Tom, and walked away without so much as a word. This reaction was almost as puzzling as the letter itself, and it made Jekyll suspicious. Had Skinner known Emily would refuse? If so, why hadn't he told anyone?

Had he _told_ Emily to refuse?

It wasn't an improbable explanation. Emily was shy and could easily be persuaded, particularly by Skinner. It was difficult to imagine that Skinner could be so cruel as to take advantage of her trust in him. He was wayward and impertinent, but he was anything but vicious. Yet Jekyll couldn't put the thought out of his mind. The day after receiving the letter, he asked Skinner for a private meeting in the library.

"Mr. Skinner, there is something I feel I must speak to you about," he began, fiddling nervously with his watch. "I could be grossly mistaken on the matter, and I'm sure you'll forgive me if this is so."

"Sure," said Skinner nonchalantly. "Wot is it?"

Jekyll flipped the lid of his pocket watch open and shut with a furious energy as he asked, "Mr. Skinner, have you, in any way, influenced Miss Leigh's recent decision?"

Outwardly, Skinner didn't allow himself to appear at all affected by this question, but in reality nothing was further from the truth. How had Jekyll found out?

"Woy would Oi do a thing loike that?" he asked, taking a chair in the most indifferent manner possible.

"Well, your motivation is as yet unclear," said Jekyll, looking still more nervous as he continued to flip the watch lid open and shut.

"So you're accusing me of a croime without a motivation?" Skinner asked scornfully. "Sounds _real _plausible."

"I said the motivation was _unclear._" Jekyll finally looked up from the watch as he defended himself. "It simply doesn't seem…it doesn't seem possible that Miss Leigh would refuse. All evidence pointed to her acceptance."

"Maybe the risks outweighed the benefits," Skinner suggested with a roguish smile. Jekyll looked at him sharply.

"You 'ave to admit that it's an equally plausible explanation," Skinner said, leaning back on the arm of the chair.

"Yes, but it doesn't explain your strange behavior," said Jekyll. "That is what concerns me."

"Wot are you, moy father all of a sudden?" Skinner asked laughingly. "Moy behavior concerns you?"

"Yes, it does, but this isn't about you or I," said Jekyll. "It's about Miss Leigh, and what _she _wants."

"Well, Oi believe she told you very clearly in 'er letter wot she wants," said Skinner. "She wants you to leave 'er alone."

"Skinner…"

"An' if you'd asked me, Oi'd 'ave said that this wos about the fact that you can't take no for an answer, loike any otha doctor."

"Mr. Skinner, please, let's stay on the subject at hand."

"This _is _the subject at 'and!" said Skinner, standing up quite suddenly.

"There's no need to get excited," said Jekyll, taking a small step backward.

"If Oi'm wrong, then woy can't you accept 'er answer an' move on?" Skinner took a step forward as he spoke.

Instead of taking another step back, Jekyll stayed where he was.

"_Was _it Miss Leigh's answer, Mr. Skinner? Or was it yours?"

Skinner was silent for a moment as he retreated back to his chair.

"Oi can't _make _Emily do anything," he said at last.

"No," said Jekyll. "But your personality is stronger than hers. It happens all the time. She is timid and easily influenced, and you are brash and could easily influence. The situation is suspicious. If I were wrong, you would have told me so at once without getting agitated. I'm afraid you gave yourself away."

"So now you're a psychologist, too?" said Skinner.

"Why? Why did you do it, Skinner?" Jekyll persisted, with a wild gesture of his hand. "I thought you loved her."

"I _do _love 'er!" Skinner said angrily, getting on his feet again. "_That's_ woy Oi did it. Because Oi love 'er."

"That's impossible," said Jekyll.

"Wot would you know?" Skinner said fiercely. "It's far more complicated than anythin' you'll read in any book, an' if you spent more toime livin' instead of just readin' about it, you'd know that."

"Pardon me, but I at least know that love – _true _love – is selfless," said Jekyll. "You don't seem to understand that."

"You 'ave no idea 'ow it is!" Skinner shouted. "You don't know wot it's loike to 'ave been nothing but a shadow all this toime. An' now 'ere's someone who sees me, _sees_ me, Jekyll! She sees more than jus' the coat an' face paint that Oi am to you. She sees me, Rodney Skinner. She loves _me_. You can't begin to imagine wot it feels loike to be given that identity back. It wos somethin' Oi thought Oi'd never 'ave again."

"And now you can repay her by giving _her_ something she thought she'd never have again," said Jekyll.

"Oi can't lose her," said Skinner, sounding a little too emotional for Jekyll's comfort. Emotional was not something he had ever seen Skinner be.

"Why should you lose her?" he asked.

"Take a good look at me," said Skinner contemptuously.

"And?" Jekyll asked.

"Oi'm a freak, Jekyll!" said Skinner. "If Emily ever sees me, she'll know that. There will be no more Rodney Skinner. Only the Invisible Man. She'll see me as everyone else does."

"If you don't trust her enough to give her a chance, then perhaps you were wrong for each other from the beginning," said Jekyll. "If you care for her at all, you will respect her right to an independent decision."

Without answering, Skinner turned and left. But he couldn't walk away from that conversation unaffected. The burning shame he'd felt upon initially lying to Emily was increased a hundred times over now that Jekyll had forced him to admit to his crime. In a way, he had been in denial of it. He went to his room, locked himself in, and felt absolutely no desire to ever leave that room again. At least here he had no chance of making a mess of anyone's life. He sat down at his desk and quickly penned a letter to Emily, telling her he had been mistaken in his opinion on the procedure and advising her to go ahead with it if that was what she chose. He laid his pen down. What was it he'd said to Jekyll?

_If you spent more time living, instead of just reading about it, you'd know that._

Oh, the cruel hypocrisy of that statement! Henry Jekyll spent far more time living than he himself was able, for how could a shadow ever really live?

* * *

For Skinner, the day of the operation was comparable to Judgment Day. He didn't greet her, nor did anyone else but Jekyll, in order to deceive her into thinking that the _Nautilus _was Jekyll's workplace. In fact, Skinner didn't even come out of his room. Later that evening, Tom, upon passing by Skinner's door, thought he heard a strange muffled sound. It sounded like someone crying.

_Skinner? Crying?_ he wondered. _What could that be about?_

He stood looking at the door for a moment. He was uncertain whether Skinner would appreciate his intrusion; he was uncertain whether he'd even heard the noise in the first place. He stepped closer to the door and put his ear against it. Skinner _was _crying. He stepped back and raised his hand to knock, but then doubts began to flood his mind. Would Skinner let him in? It wasn't likely. No one had ever been allowed into Skinner's room before. Would Skinner even answer? If he did, would he be angry? And finally, in the unlikely event that Skinner allowed him to enter, would he even know what to say?

Tom lowered his hand and continued on down the hallway.

* * *

Very late that night, after the operation had long been over and everyone was asleep, Skinner – dressed in his coat, gloves, sunglasses, and paint – stole down to the sick bay to see Emily. Jekyll was sleeping in the next room in case something should go wrong, but it didn't worry Skinner. He was an expert at not getting caught. He pulled a chair over to the bedside and simply sat there. After a few minutes, he reached out and touched her hand. She didn't stir, so he took her hand in his and sat like that for a long time. He didn't look up when he heard the doorknob turn. He waited expectantly to be turned out by Jekyll, but Jekyll's voice never came. Only Mina's.

"What are you up to at this hour?" she asked softly.

"Oi could ask you the same thing," said Skinner. Mina looked amused and crossed the room to stand beside him.

"Don't worry, Mr. Skinner," she said, placing a hand on his throat. "I don't fancy the taste of greasepaint."

Skinner didn't appear to be cheered by the jest.

"What's wrong?" Mina asked him.

"Woy should there be anything wrong?" Skinner replied. Mina rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Skinner, it's two o'clock in the morning," she said. "_Something_ is wrong."

"We didn't quarrel, if that's wot you're getting at," said Skinner irately.

"What happened, then?" Mina asked.

"Nothing that concerns you," said Skinner. "Oi believe Oi told you that once."

"Why the aversion to discussion?" Mina wanted to know.

"Woy the aversion to leavin' me alone?" Skinner replied.

"Why do people frighten you so?" Mina insisted.

"People don't froighten me, all roight?" said Skinner. "_Oi _froighten _them_. 'Appy now?"

"You don't give yourself credit for your personality," said Mina.

"Wot good does personality do when Oi look loike this?" Skinner asked. "Anyway, wot are you doin' defendin' moy personality? It doesn't seem to appeal to you."

"The Invisible Man's personality doesn't appeal to me," said Mina. "But I like Rodney Skinner much better than I'd have expected. I've never found you so agreeable as I have these past six months."

"Well, you're in for a disappointment," said Skinner.

"Oh?"

"Rodney Skinner ceased to exist some years back."

"I don't believe that, and I don't believe you do, either. He's there somewhere. Through her disability, Emily brought your true personality out. All you have to do is learn how to let it out yourself."

"It's a near impossible task when you're always seen for _wot_ you are, never _who _you are."

"Emily saw you," said Mina. "You said so yourself. Emily saw you for who you are because you allowed her to. If you would only allow the rest of the world…"

"It's not that simple," Skinner cut in.

"Yes, it is," Mina argued. "Everyone sees the Invisible Man because that's all you show them."

"That's all they care to know," said Skinner.

"Well, then it's your own fault for not trusting people enough to give them a chance," said Mina.

* * *

The next morning, Skinner hadn't moved from the chair. He was resolved that he would be the very first thing Emily saw that day, whether Jekyll liked it or not. The sun had just begun its ascent, and Skinner waited anxiously for Emily to awaken. What would she do when she saw him? Certainly she wouldn't recognize him, but would she be afraid? As the sun rose higher, lack of sleep made Skinner more nervous. Suppose she _were_ afraid of him? How would he respond to that? He got up, paced around the room, sat down, got up, and paced again. The tension was positively maddening!

"Excuse me, sir."

Skinner stopped dead in his tracks.

"Are you…doctor Edward Hyde?"

"No," said Skinner.

"Who are you?" Emily asked.

Skinner hesitated. He couldn't tell her who he was. The words simply wouldn't come. He took her hand and looked at her for a moment.

"Sir?" Emily asked.

"A friend," he finally managed. He quickly kissed her cheek and walked out.

That was that. He could never see her again. It was possible he'd let her see too much already. If she recognized him, if his name got circulated in connection with hers, she would be in the greatest of danger. But he felt some comfort in knowing that he had been the first thing she had seen in three-odd years.

* * *

When Jekyll came in just moments after Skinner left, Emily immediately asked him, "You are a friend of Mr. John Smith's?"

"Indeed, I am," said Jekyll, taken aback by the question.

"Can you tell me what he looks like?" Emily asked.

"Do you mean that he's been to visit you?" Jekyll asked evasively.

"I'm not altogether sure," said Emily. "When I woke up there was a strange man sitting beside me. He was dressed completely in black, in a coat, gloves, and glasses, and his face was so pale that I was startled at first. I believe it was painted. He said only that he was a friend."

Jekyll didn't quite know what to say. Judging from the distinctive description, he had no doubt that the "strange man" had been Skinner. But if Skinner had purposely kept even his alias from Emily, he certainly must have had his reasons for doing so, and Jekyll felt it wasn't his place to interfere.

"The man certainly sounds like a unique character," was all he told her.


	5. Chapter 5

Skinner didn't visit or otherwise allow Emily to see him after that, but whenever he could spare a moment he was watching her from the concealment of his invisibility. He became something of a theater ghost as stories began to circulate about programmes hovering in the air at the back of the theater during a performance. Skinner didn't care what manner of supernatural horror the performers thought he was, as long as he could watch Emily. She was dancing with the _corps de ballet_ again, and Skinner could see why her former inability to dance had caused her such regret. She was one of the best dancers in the company, and whenever she danced her love for the art was written plainly on her every feature. Skinner knew now that he could never have lived with himself knowing he had kept that from her.

As for Emily, she had no clue as to what had become of her dear John Smith. She couldn't visit him, write him letters, or get any other form of communication to him, for he had never left an address and she had never thought to ask. All she could do was worry about him, which she did constantly, and her friend, Marie St. Aubin, began to grow increasingly worried about her.

For three months, Skinner continued to observe Emily from a distance. Occasionally, he would leave a rose on her dressing table after a performance, but never with any indication as to who the giver might be. He was in an almost constant state of melancholy, and though the other members of the League had no way of knowing it, it was affecting his health. No one could have guessed how incredibly thin he had grown, or how tired he looked from his many sleepless nights, or how pale his skin really was. Even Skinner himself had no way of knowing these things beyond what he could feel, and he was quite used to ignoring that. The others knew he was depressed and tried their best to boost his spirits back to their characteristic liveliness, but with little success. Beyond that, they didn't feel it was their place to meddle. However, one day something happened that forced them to meddle. While returning home from one of the League's various missions, Skinner collapsed in a hallway. No one knew anything about it until Tom nearly tripped over him.

"Skinner?" he asked. "Skinner, is that you?"

He knelt down and touched what he estimated to be the Invisible Man's face. He had estimated correctly, and he was surprised to find Skinner quite cold.

"Jekyll!" he called. "Jekyll, I think you'd better get over here!"

Jekyll soon arrived on the scene, and Tom's shouting had caught the attention of Mina and Nemo as well. Jekyll began to examine Skinner and ordered Tom to find Skinner's tin of greasepaint. Tom sprinted down the hall to Skinner's room, but he had some apprehension about going in. No one had ever seen the interior of Skinner's room. Skinner would surely be furious if he knew what Tom was about to do, but it was for his own good. Tom threw open the door and looked around. He noticed that the one mirror in the room was shattered. Then, spying Skinner's coat hanging on a coat tree in the corner, he grabbed it and made a hasty retreat. He handed the coat to Jekyll, who covered Skinner with it and then fished the tin of paint out of one of the pockets.

"Is he all right?" Tom asked with concern.

"We're about to find out," said Jekyll.

"Perhaps he suffered a blow to the head," Nemo suggested.

"How?" Tom asked. "He's not tall enough to have hit his head on a doorway or light fixture…is he?"

"I think that if he were this would have happened long before now," said Jekyll.

"Perhaps he harmed himself intentionally," said Mina. Tom looked at her with a start. The thought of Skinner committing such a horrible crime made his skin crawl.

"Skinner wouldn't do that," he said, trying to sound confident. "Not the Skinner I know."

"Well, it's not as though Skinner can tell us what happened," said Mina. "We must consider every possibility."

"It isn't likely that he's harmed himself," said Jekyll. "Not intentionally, anyway. From the look of him, I'd say he hasn't been eating enough."

Skinner was moved to the sick bay and left under Jekyll's supervision, while Tom stayed by choice. Skinner came to only minutes later.

"Wot 'appened?" he asked drowsily.

"You collapsed in the hallway," said Jekyll matter-of-factly.

"Wot?"

"I almost tripped over you," said Tom, looking quite upset.

"Did Oi…get knocked out?"

"I'd say so."

"Boy whom?"

"Skinner, shut up. You know what happened."

"Oi…do?"

"Stop it!" Tom shouted, while Jekyll pretended to be busy looking through his medicines.

"Wot?" Skinner asked helplessly. "Wot did Oi do?"

"You're starving yourself, Skinner!" said Tom, still shouting. "Don't you even realize that? You're killing yourself, you idiot!"

" 'Ey now…" said Skinner, sitting up.

"Don't ' 'Ey now' me!" said Tom, shoving him back down.

"Oi'll ' 'Ey now' whoeva Oi loike!" said Skinner as he got to his feet. He started to leave, but Jekyll stopped him.

"Skinner, we all know what's causing this shocking decline in your health," he said.

"It's none of your affair," Skinner told him gruffly.

"Let us help you," Jekyll offered.

"No thanks," said Skinner, once again turning to leave.

"Why don't you just visit her, for gosh sake?" said Tom.

"She'll understand," Jekyll added in an attempt to soften the blow of Tom's harsh words.

"Understand?" said Skinner, sounding skeptical. "Understand wot? That Oi'm not the normal John Smith she thinks Oi am? That Oi loied to 'er? Oi'm sure she'd understand _that_."

"Well, then you'd be no worse off," said Tom. "But are you just going to throw away the chance that she _will _understand?"

"There wos never a chance to begin with!" said Skinner. "It can't work, Sawyer. It just can't. The Invisible Man invades everythin' Oi do. If she's ever mentioned in connection with me, she'll be in danger. Not that she'd ever _want _to be connected with me afta wot Oi've done."

"Give her a chance, Skinner," Jekyll advised. "People can surprise you."

"Not in moy experience," said Skinner bitterly.

"Well, then you were right," said Tom. "You don't deserve her."

* * *

Despite this incident, things didn't seem to change. Skinner's mood was not improved and he continued to observe Emily whenever he was able. By this time, Emily had a new suitor: Sir Sidney Warren, a rich patron of the Apollo Theater. Skinner had often seen him at performances and theater galas and he had distinct misgivings about the way the man looked at Emily. Emily, on the other hand, seemed to be aware of nothing of the sort. Indeed, she didn't seem to be aware that Sir Warren even existed, for she paid him very little mind. But he was persistent in his attentions, so Skinner resolved to keep a close eye on him.

Sir Warren made Skinner's mood even darker. When Mina had the unhappy chance to mention at dinner one day that she had seen Emily taking a walk with said Sir Warren, Skinner flew into a rage.

"Someone ought to know betta than to allow her out alone with that fiend!" he said. "Roight free with 'is 'ands, that one. 'E isn't to be trusted in a lady's company for a second."

"Someone _does_ know better," said Tom, glaring at Skinner. "He's just choosing to do nothing about it."

Skinner threw down his knife, which stuck in the floor, and stalked out of the room.

"My goodness," said Mina. Dinner continued in a somewhat awkward silence, until the sound of someone playing the pianoforte in the lounge could be heard.

"That couldn't be…Skinner?" Tom asked, incredulous.

"Indeed, the man is full of surprises," said Mina, raising her eyebrows as a series of haunting arpeggios filled the room. She excused herself and walked toward the lounge to listen. She paused just outside the doorway and was soon joined by Jekyll, Nemo, and Tom. Skinner, sitting at the pianoforte, had his back turned and didn't see them. His gloves were sitting beside him on the bench and the keys seemed to move of their own accord. It was an unusual sight, not only because his hands were invisible but also because it was Skinner – Rodney Skinner, the Invisible Man – playing the pianoforte, and quite well at that. He made not one single mistake, and when the song ended, he lapsed immediately into another. There was no music in front of him; he played from memory. When the last chord had faded, Doctor Jekyll began to applaud. Skinner jumped and turned around.

"Expertly done, Mr. Skinner," said Jekyll. "However did you become such a proficient?"

"Oi 'ad lessons before moy parents died," Skinner explained.

"You must have a great natural talent to play so well with so few lessons and such a limited access to an instrument," said Jekyll.

"Oi wouldn't know," said Skinner, shrugging. "Oi've just always done it. Oi've certainly improved over the years from the toimes Oi've been able to play. An' Oi s'pose it 'elps when you wrote the songs yourself."

"You wrote those?" Tom asked in disbelief.

"Sure," said Skinner. "There's really nothin' to it. You just sit down an'…well, play."

So saying, he turned and started on a new song.


	6. Chapter 6

It was not long after the discovery of Mr. Skinner's extraordinary talent at the pianoforte that Mina decided to take matters between he and Emily into her own hands. She wrote a letter to Emily telling her where to write to Skinner, signing it "John Smith". Two weeks passed and no letter came. Mina had wisely kept her plan to herself, preventing Skinner from becoming even more dejected by Emily's lack of correspondence. However, Mina herself was greatly discouraged. Had Emily given up on Skinner?

Then, in the middle of the third week, a letter came addressed to Mr. John Smith. Mina eagerly tore open the envelope, only to find that it wasn't from Emily at all, but from her friend, Marie St. Aubin. The dancer wrote practically pleading with Skinner to visit Emily. She expressed concern for her friend, who had taken to "going off and spending long hours by herself _Dieu_ knows where". She also told of her suspicions that the intentions of Miss Leigh's suitor, Sir Warren, weren't entirely correct and her anxiety over the fact that Emily paid him too little heed to notice. She politely informed _monsieur _that Emily was excessively worried about him and that if he wished to end the relationship, he should please visit Emily and tell her so, thus sparing her the anxiety from which she was now suffering.

Mina showed the letter to Jekyll, who advised her to show it to Skinner straight away. This she did, and Skinner read in stunned silence.

" 'Ow did she ever foind out where to write?" he wondered out loud to himself. "Oi left no address."

"I wrote to her under your name," Mina told him unabashedly. "Some men…"

She went on, but Skinner wasn't hearing her. He was far away.

It was the same old story again. He had done something selfish and now he regretted it. Would he never learn?

He walked out on Mina without even realizing she was still there. He fetched his hat, coat, and gloves from his room and set off at once to do what he ought to have done some time ago. He walked as quickly as he could to the theater dormitories, painting his face as he went. Marie answered his knock and invited him in eagerly.

"_Monsieur _will forgive my forwardness, but I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about poor Emily," she said.

"Far from it," said Skinner. "Where is she?"

"She's with that horrible suitor of hers, _Monsieur_ Warren," she said wrathfully. "_Le monstre_!"

"Where have they gone?" Skinner asked.

"I do not know," said Marie, suddenly looking anxious. "Usually, I would insist upon accompanying them, but today he insisted that they go alone. It has me nearly ill!"

" 'Ow long ago did they leave?" Skinner continued with his questioning.

"It's certainly an hour by now," said Marie.

Skinner began to walk about anxiously, trying to come up with a plan of action. Marie obviously had no idea where the couple had gone, and in an hour they could've gotten quite a distance. In short, they could be almost anywhere.

"Did they take a vehicle?" he asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," said Marie. Skinner fell silent again.

"Do you know where Sir Warren lives?" he asked after some minutes.

"_Oui_, I do," said Marie excitedly. She gave him the address and he started for the door, but she stopped him before he could leave.

"Let me come with you," she said. "I can show you the way."

"Thank you, but I'll manage," said Skinner, not wanting to endanger the girl. He'd already put one too many persons in danger.

"You'll get there quicker," said Marie.

"Oi wouldn't want you to get 'urt," said Skinner.

"I'll stay out of the way," said Marie, placing a hand over her heart. "_Je promets_."

Skinner, anxious to be on his way, reluctantly agreed to allow her to accompany him. She hastily put on her cloak, for it was raining outside, and led him out the door. He followed her to a wealthy section at the heart of the city.

"The fourth house down, on the left," said Marie. "That is his."

"Thank you, _Mademoisell_e St. Aubin," said Skinner. "I promise to return Emily safe and sound."

"Wait!" said Marie. "Am I not to come with you?"

"No," said Skinner. "Most definitely not. It's for your own safety, _mademoiselle_. Wot would Emily think if she came 'ome to foind you 'urt?"

"What will she think if you get hurt?" Marie countered.

"This isn't a job for a young lady loike you," said Skinner. "Please, toime is of the essence at the moment. Please, go back."

Reluctantly, Marie went. As soon as she was out of sight, Skinner used the cleanest puddle he could find to wash the paint off his face. He entered the house through a first-floor window, carelessly left open, probably by a servant. He stole down one hallway after another, listening for any sound of a struggle of some kind. There seemed to be no one in the house at present.

_Wot if they aren't 'ere?_ he thought worriedly. Just then, he heard a shrill cry from somewhere above him. He quickly located the staircase and dashed madly upward, stripping off his hat and coat as he ran. He threw open the first door he came to, finding it empty. He went down the hallway opening doors but found nothing to interest him until he got to the very last door, which was locked. He picked the lock quite easily, and inside he found some chemists' equipment and a beaker of white liquid. He smelled it and nearly choked, the scent was so acidic. He grew even more anxious and wondered what it could possibly be meant for. Perhaps Sir Warren was in a line of work involving such chemicals.

But then again, perhaps he wasn't.

Skinner made a mental note of where the room was located in case he wanted to come back and investigate further, then started up the steps to the third floor. Just as he reached the top, there came another scream.

Which room? He had no time to search them all. He was perhaps too late even now. Then the cry came again and he was able to trace it to the room at the end of the hallway. He threw open the door with a bang, startling Emily and Sir Warren, who were inside. There was a glass bowl of the same chemical Skinner had found among the chemists' equipment spilled on the floor beside Emily, who was kneeling and weeping with her face buried in her hands. She was clothed only in her undergarments.

Furious, Skinner rushed forward and grabbed Sir Warren by the collar.

"Wot 'ave you done?" he demanded, his voice quiet and dangerous. Sir Warren made no reply, but drew his sword and swung at Skinner. The sword sliced into Skinner's arm and then grazed his cheek. Skinner hadn't been expecting that and it made him even angrier. He shoved Sir Warren away, seized the bowl on the floor, and flung it with all his might at the fleeing nobleman. The bowl hit the man's head and shattered, rendering him thoroughly unconscious.

"That takes care of you, you blackguard," Skinner growled.

"John?" Emily asked in shock, lifting her face from her hands but not looking up at him. Skinner looked at her for a moment and felt absolutely sick. Because of his selfishness, something terrible had happened. He was responsible.

It was an intimidating thought.

Of all the people in the world, the one he'd least wanted to hurt was Emily Leigh. And he'd gone and done just that. When would he learn?

"Emily?" he said uncertainly, nearly choking on the word. It seemed an age since he'd last spoken her name.

"John?" Emily asked again, still not looking up. Skinner felt even worse as he realized what this could mean. She might be angry with him, as she had every right to be. She might not want to see him or speak to him ever again. What would he do then?

"Yes, Emily, it's me," said Skinner, realizing with shame that she didn't even know who he really was. Well, he wouldn't try to hide it from her now. She would know from the fact that he was a disembodied voice.

"I…I don't know what to say," Emily told him.

"Don't say anything then," said Skinner, kneeling in front of her. "Pardon moy boldness, but…Oi just…"

His voice trailed off as he gently touched his mouth to hers. Then, to his immense shock, she slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

"How _dare _you!" she cried in a trembling, tearful voice. "How dare you come here and rescue me, after disappearing without so much as a word just when I needed you most, and then do such a presumptuous thing!"

So saying, she began to cry harder and buried her face in her hands once more. It took Skinner a few moments to react. Slowly, he put his hand up to his cheek, which burned from the impact.

"It's…it's all so…complicated…" he stammered.

"Too complicated for what?" Emily demanded. "Did you think I wouldn't understand?"

"Oi didn't think…Oi…" Skinner searched for the right words. But deep down, he knew she was right. He hadn't trusted her enough to allow her to understand. And what was love without trust?

"Didn't you know that I loved you?" said Emily.

"Oi knew it…but Oi wos afraid…afraid you wouldn't love me anymore if you knew," said Skinner.

"Knew?" Emily asked. "John, what's going on?"

"Oi s'pose Oi should start with moy name," said Skinner. "It isn't John Smith."

"It isn't?" Emily asked, dumbfounded. "Well…what is it then?"

"Rodney Skinna."

Emily gasped. She still couldn't bring herself to look at him, however. She kept her eyes on the floor.

"The man by my bed…it was you all the time?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Skinner admitted.

"You're the Invisible Man?"

Skinner's heart was rent to pieces when he heard that.

"The Invisible Man," he said bitterly. "Yes, the Invisible Man. It's all Oi'll _ever _be, it seems."

"What are you talking about?" Emily asked. She wasn't crying anymore, but her face was tear-stained and she still wouldn't look up at him.

"Oi'm the Invisible Man," said Skinner. "That's it. No one can get past the Invisible Man to Rodney Skinna…no one but you, Emily. Oi wos 'ardly more than a shadow 'till you came along. You saw _me, _as no one else could. An' when you got your soight back, Oi wos afraid you'd become just loike everyone else."

"So you disappeared?" said Emily.

"It wos wrong of me," said Skinner. "Oi know that now. Oi've learned moy lesson, Oi swear."

"But even before that, you lied to me," said Emily. "Why didn't you tell me who you were? Didn't you trust me?"

"Oi've lived in complete mistrust of the world for so long, Oi couldn't 'elp it," said Skinner. "Oi thought that if you knew who Oi wos, you'd think Oi wos a freak."

"I'm not so superficial as that, Mr. Skinner," said Emily.

"Oi know," said Skinner. "Oi ought to 'ave known better…Oi shouldn't 'ave acted so selfishly."

Emily was silent as she continued to stare at the floor, so Skinner spoke again.

"Are you 'urt?" he asked gently.

She lowered her eyes even further.

"Emily…Oi'm so sorry," said Skinner earnestly. "This is all moy fault, an' Oi can neva make it up to you. Oi've made such a mess of everythin'."

He paused. He didn't want to ask, but he knew he had to.

"Wot did he do to you?"

Emily began to weep again.

"Don't croy, please, Emily," said Skinner, putting his arms around her. Then he realized he'd left his hat and coat on the stairs and went to fetch them. When he returned, she had stopped crying.

"It'll be all roight," Skinner assured her. "No one ever 'as to know. An' if it's ever found out, well…'e's the criminal, not you."

"Mr. Skinner…it's not what you think," said Emily. "He only managed to get my dress off before you came in. But he…he had a bowl of something. He held me down and smeared it into my eyes. It burned quite terribly."

Skinner immediately remembered the chemists' equipment and the acidic-smelling chemical.

"Oh, dear God, no…"

He knelt and took hold of her shoulders, and she finally looked up at him. Her gaze fixed at once on his face, which wasn't painted, and he knew it was true.

Sir Warren had used the chemical to blind her.

"Oh, Emily…" was all he could say.

"I'll never see again," said Emily, fresh tears glistening in her eyes. "No operation can fix this."

Skinner held her tightly. Through no fault of her own, Emily would suffer for the rest of her life, and it was all his doing. He felt tears in his own eyes as he thought of how he had accidentally been responsible for her loss of sight the first time.

"This is all moy fault," he said hoarsely. "Oi can't ask you to forgive me after this."

"You don't have to ask," said Emily, smiling through her tears. "After all, we're back where we began – I the blind girl, you the Invisible Man. Perhaps this is how it was meant to be. Why don't we just begin again?"

Skinner was silent for a very long moment as he looked down at her. Then he said, " 'Ow about pickin' up where we left off?"

"I'd like that very much, Mr. Skinner," said Emily.

"Rodney," Skinner corrected her gently. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes…"

So saying, he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. Of course, the other League members had the chance to find them right at that moment. Mina had told the others what had happened upon Skinner's reading Marie's letter, and they had gone straightaway to see Marie, who directed them to the mansion. Now, they couldn't help but stare through the open door with a strange mix of wonder and embarrassment. The sight of a seemingly headless man kissing a girl – and quite passionately, at that – was a sight one didn't often encounter. And the sight was a strange one, to be sure.

Finally, placing a hand on Tom's shoulder, Captain Nemo said, "Come, let us return. We are not needed here."


End file.
